Henry Clark slapped his thigh and exclaimed that Seventh Brother was indeed a clever man. Yet inwardly he sneered, secretly pleased with his scheme, having tricked Adam Brooks into his trap. Henry Clark, putting on a sincere and heartfelt expression, said to Adam Brooks, “The chief is living freely and at ease on Tianma Mountain—how could he be willing to humble himself before others? Someone must explain the stakes to him so he can wake up to reality. If I were to speak, he’d only suspect me of plotting something. Only you, Adam Brooks, as his disciple, can earn his trust. This concerns the very survival of our Tianma Mountain, which is why I made up an excuse to bring you out alone to discuss it.”

Adam Brooks only pondered briefly, but inwardly he was mocking, thinking to himself, “Henry Clark, do you really take your Adam Brooks as a fool who’s never read a book and has no brains? The Bamboo Branch Gang and the Three Mountains Sect have fought many times in the past—there’s no lack of old grudges. How could a bit of flirting between two youngsters resolve such deep-seated hatred? The two sides might unite, but it’s far from easy. If he wants me to go and talk nonsense to the Black Whirlwind chief, I might be mistaken for a spy with ulterior motives, or even suspected of being bought off by someone else, and get my head chopped off. This disciple status isn’t so useful after all—it can’t be used so recklessly.”

Adam Brooks doubted Henry Clark’s intentions, so he feigned reluctance and refused to agree. Henry Clark saw that Adam Brooks wouldn’t take the bait, knowing this matter couldn’t be rushed. When one plan failed, he quickly devised another. After some persuasion, he suddenly chuckled and said, “Since you, Old Seven, don’t dare to persuade the chief, we can take our time to plan. I know you’ve been diligently practicing your saber skills, but you don’t have a good blade that suits you. Second Brother once, while roaming the martial world, accidentally acquired a Burmese saber forged from refined steel. When not in use, it can be coiled up; in battle, a flick of the wrist turns it into a fine steel blade, exceptionally sharp—ordinary weapons can be cut in half with a single strike. I’ve always fought with my palms, so this saber is useless to me. I’ll give it to you.”

Henry Clark failed to persuade Adam Brooks to speak to the Black Whirlwind chief, so he switched to deliberately winning him over. As long as he could get closer to Adam Brooks, even if Adam Brooks’s martial arts improved, he’d still owe him some favor. Adam Brooks was clever, but after all, he was just a boy of about ten—how could he see through all the twists and turns in Henry Clark’s mind?

He had only one thought: if there’s a benefit to be had, not taking it would be foolish. So he cheerfully accepted the Burmese saber, channeled his strength into his palm, and with a flick, the refined steel blade instantly straightened.

With a casual swing, the saber’s energy surged, and a nearby sapling was immediately cut down.

That strike felt especially smooth to Adam Brooks, and he thought to himself, “It seems that practicing the Supreme Dragon Transformation Technique these days has also improved my saber skills—my moves are much faster and more agile than before.” Henry Clark, watching from the side, was shocked. As an old hand in the martial world, he noticed that when Adam Brooks swung the saber, a faint flow of energy moved along the blade—a sign of having cultivated true qi. Adam Brooks himself didn’t realize that this casual strike had revealed his strength, but it gave Henry Clark quite a scare.

To cultivate Iron Bone Skill to the sixth level or above is the only way to generate true qi; this external martial art is much less effective at producing true qi than the internal arts of meditation and qi refinement. Henry Clark didn’t know that Adam Brooks had had a stroke of luck—he simply assumed Adam Brooks had trained Iron Bone Skill to such a level, and couldn’t help but feel a chill in his heart.

The Black Whirlwind chief of Tianma Mountain, when he first set out, had only reached the fifth level of Iron Bone Skill. It was only after years of dedicated training that he broke through to the sixth level a few years ago and cultivated a stream of true qi. Now that Adam Brooks had reached the same level, Henry Clark thought to himself, “Good thing I didn’t act rashly just now—if Adam Brooks’s martial arts are already on par with the chief’s, wouldn’t he have killed me in an instant?”

As these thoughts churned in Henry Clark’s mind, he grew increasingly awkward, glancing at Adam Brooks several times, feeling that this boy’s depth of character already rivaled his own—not someone easy to deal with.

Adam Brooks had no idea that this second-in-command had already changed his opinion of him. After showing off a few saber tricks, he slapped the Burmese saber against his waist, and it instantly transformed into a belt wrapped around him.

He clasped his fists and thanked the Double-Yin Scholar Henry Clark, saying, “Thanks to Second-in-Command’s generosity, this saber is truly excellent—I don’t even know how to repay you.”

Henry Clark first gave an awkward laugh, then pretended to say, “Call me Second Brother, not Second-in-Command—using that title sounds so distant.”

Adam Brooks secretly thought, “Since when did we have such rules on Tianma Mountain? Back on the mountain, you treated the other sub-chiefs like cattle and horses—when would you let us call you brother? This Double-Yin Scholar is cunning—suddenly being so attentive to me can’t be a good sign. I’d better be on guard.”

Adam Brooks was a product of the bandit’s den—how could he trust anyone so easily? No matter how well Henry Clark treated him, Adam Brooks would never be grateful or moved to tears. After all, he knew this second-in-command well—ruthless and never kind-hearted. First he tried to persuade him to speak to the chief, then gave him a precious saber—no matter how you looked at it, it seemed like a plot. After thinking it over, Adam Brooks suddenly wondered, “Could it be I’ve given myself away somehow?”

After pondering for a while, Adam Brooks became more cautious, but outwardly he went along with the flow, calling “Second Brother, Second Brother” with practiced ease, as if he had no idea Henry Clark was scheming at all.